Like Riding a Broom
by physixXx
Summary: Cedric had preconceived notions about Harry Potter. But something happens to change them... and it's more than just 'dragons'. Follows my Eyes on the Prize arc and happens prior to that story. THIS STORY IS COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_The dialogue is taken directly from GOBLET OF FIRE and owned by JKR and the companies who own her._

**1.**

"Dragons…?"

Cedric eyed Harry warily, as if expecting a grand plot to reveal itself under closer scrutiny.

"Yeah, dragons," Harry affirmed, looking around.

Bent down, Cedric began nervously picking up books and quills that had fallen out of his leather satchel. It was a new bag, too. The satchel was an expensive present from his father after a laudable summer being tutored for the upcoming year; and he loved it for what it symbolized – that his father was proud of him.

Nevertheless, Cedric found he no longer cared about his broken bag. His hands were trembling.

'How the fuck do I fight a dragon?' he wondered to himself, 'I think I'm in way over my head.'

Harry squatted down in front of Cedric and began to help him. He reached for Cedric's copy of _Advance Transfigurations. _His breath hitched at the sudden feeling of Cedric's hand over his. Even with the briskness of the touch, Harry could feel the slightly calloused hands, hardbitten by years of Quidditch broom-handling. They felt of sand and beaches; or, at least, what Harry _thought _sand and beaches felt like, since he had never been to a beach or touched sand.

"Oh, sorry," Cedric said, realizing that he had reached for the same book.

Harry's cheeks flushed red with heat. He looked into Cedric's eyes; they were grey with silver shard-like coruscations that seemed to catch light from the candles in the halls of the Charms corridor. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he found that he could not swallow, could not breathe, nor could he keep Cedric's gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Dead sure," Harry answered, nervously, feeling his chest tighten.

Cedric leaned in closer – oh what was that smell? Harry wondered if it were some new spice the gods had bestowed upon the earth; captured and held hostage by the boy's skin? – "But… how did you find out? We're not supposed to know until--?"

Harry's heart rate increased, "—nevermind. But, I'm not the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know by now; Maxime and Kakaroff seen the dragons, too."

Standing with his ripped bag over one shoulder and hands full of ink-stained parchment and quills, Cedric stepped closer to Harry. Mouth open, Harry gulped as he realized that he was still at eye-level with Cedric's crotch. Despite being hidden by robes, he could imagine the smell of it: sweat and musk with a hint of soap from Cedric's morning bath. Harry allowed himself to swoon, faintly, until he realized that Cedric was staring down at him.

Harry stood and tossed his own backpack across a shoulder. He made to walk away when Cedric grabbed his hand, making sure he could not. Pulling him closer, he whispered, "Why are you telling me this?"

Harry trembled with nervous anticipation, his breathing becoming louder and more erratic. He took a deep breath, almost falling forward into the smell of Cedric: a slight air of sandalwood and mint toothpaste.

"It's just," Harry looked around, "It's just fair, innit? We all know… we're all on even ground."

Cedric stood there, thoughts focused in on this child… no, no longer quite a child, but a boy, nonetheless. He sussed whether or not he, himself, would have done something similar -- something noble and honest – were their roles reversed.

He heard the whispers from the other Hufflepuffs: "He's so stuck on himself!"

He caught the taunts of the Slytherins: "Half-blood, pint-sized celebutante favourite of Dumbledore! Gets away with everything!"

He even noticed some Gryffindors admonish the very thought of all things Potter: "He put his name in that goblet, the attention-seeking git!"

The entire school seemed to be against Harry. Cedric even knew that his once best friend Ron Weasley had turned his back on him.

Nevertheless, this was not the action of a snobby, know-it-all, traitor-to-the-cause. This was a boy who was honest and forthcoming and brave and…

… beautiful …

'Were his eyes always that green?' Cedric wondered.

"Come with me, Potter… Diggory, off you go."

Cedric snapped back into the here-and-now when the unmistakable gruff voice of Moody caught him by the unawares.

He watched as Harry walked, head bowed and with Moody's arms around his shoulder, down the corridor where he would, undoubtedly, be taken to the professor's office.

Harry Potter risked a lot by telling Cedric what to expect in the first task of the tournament. He did it without being told to, without having anything to gain and everything to lose. Didn't he want the fame? The glory? Didn't he want to be remembered as the best, the greatest, the smartest, or the cleverest?

Cedric did, after all.

That was when he realized that Harry Potter was more a man than he.

Cedric would have been shamed by the very thought of Harry Potter …

…. were he not so intrigued by him.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

The day before the First Task was cold and bleak. The clouds coloured the skies with shades of grey, sprinkled with peppered silver that teased the world with proof of better things. Cedric had returned to his sleeping quarters – a solitary room that was the benefit of all prefects. He stood at the window overlooking the Great Lake, unable to understand why he found himself incapable of concentrating in his Advanced Charms class earlier that day.

Normally, he would sit raptly as Flitwick lectured, absorbing everything that came out of his mouth. That's what he was expected to do, right? That's what his father wanted him to do, at any rate. 'Excel in everything you do, young man,' his father would advise, 'because the world won't be handed down to you like a potted plant.'

Cedric was well aware of the slight against Harry Potter in that comment. Cedric had grown up knowing the 'Harry' story since he was at least three years old. In the Diggory household, the Potter legend was revered. There was no malice in the tone as they talked about them, but certainly, Cedric was well aware, or so he thought, that Harry would have his life handed to him without breaking so much as a sweat. Certainly, Harry Potter - the Boy Who Lived - would never have to work or put forth any effort in his life, or studies. Certainly, He-Who-Destroyed-The-Dark-Lord-Before-He-Could-Walk would excel at Hogwarts and after.

Certainly.

Cedric Diggory, on the other hand, would have to fight and work and claw his way to the top.

It was fortunate for him, then, that he was, at the very least, blessed with physical beauty. The brains would come later, but Cedric, even as a child, was coddled and pampered by strangers and family alike. If anyone lived the very definition of 'life on a silver platter', it was Cedric. Even Draco Malfoy looked upon him with accusatory eyes – or were those jealous eyes? It was hard to tell the difference sometimes - if there were even differences to tell.

The Diggorys were not rich, but they were well loved. Isn't that the same thing?

Cedric's first year at Hogwarts was a right mess. Up until that point, he rarely worked hard for anything. He didn't need to, after all. When the Sorting Hat stretched itself over Cedric's crown, even it pampered the young boy - talking about his fine smile and starlit eyes. There were admirations and adorations cemented in every whisper into his mind's ear. Compliments such as 'oh, I bet even Veela become jealous at the sight of you' and 'such a pretty mind to match a pretty face' and 'ahh, you do make me look better as I sit upon your head' made Cedric blush and titter. Nevertheless, they also made him fret.

"But I don't know much," Cedric remembered thinking to the Hat, "and I fear I'm no good."

"Ahh," was the Hat's reply, "but what of these things for the likes of you? Would you need to be brilliant? Or brave? Or wise? You are beautiful, after all. And good – and great – things come to those who are beautiful. Do they not?"

Well, how could an eleven year old argue with logic of that sort?

The hat sorted him into Hufflepuff house, where his magnificence would be truly inspirational. His father, of course, a Hufflepuff in his own time, did not mind. His Ravenclaw mother, however, poised and dignified though she may be, could not help as the disappointment washed over her. Fortunately, Cedric was not home to witness such things.

Cedric made friends quickly and easily enough. Although there were the sycophants who thought, much like the Sorting Hat, that being at his side made them look better – or prettier – he did have true friends; friends that he could tell any secret to without fear of retribution, aversion, or betrayal. (Well, he could tell them _almost _anything.) And he adored them all. Yes, even the sycophants.

Conversely, Cedric's grades were anything but top-notch. A letter from his mother just before the Christmas holiday was curt:

_Cedric,_ (Not "Dearest Cedric" or "My Dearest Son" or anything of the sort.)

_It has come to our attention that your grades are abhorrent and that you are failing even the simplest of assignments. I would remind you that you are at Hogwarts to make a name for yourself through all your endeavours, not simply to acquire and maintain a fan club. _

_Your father and I do not have the money to waste on an education that you care little for. Should you wish to live as a squib then I suggest you return home immediately and save us the trouble of having to work thankless jobs to pay for such profligate things._

_I cannot impress upon you how disappointed I am at your lack of focus and vision. This is unbecoming of the life your father and I have worked so hard to provide. I expected better of you._

_Should you wish to return home, we could find a suitable position for you on the farmlands or perhaps at a Potions Brewery where you could become a journeyman and learn a trade that may be of some use to the Wizarding world. If that is what you want, do nothing. Your father and I will come to Hogwarts to sign for your dismissal. Should you want to remain, send back our owl with a letter saying as such. Enclose your next examination grade. I expect immediate improvement. Anything less than 'Exceeds Expectations' will result in the precipitous end of your Hogwarts' career._

_I shall expect your answer within the week._

_Mother _(Mind you, not "Love, Mother" or "Your Dearest Mother" or even "Respectfully Yours, Mother". Simply... "Mother".)

The letter was neat and tidy, as expected, and devoid of emotion - all but one: disappointment.

Cedric had never disappointed his mother. Or, if he had, she made no mention of it or he was oblivious to it.

He returned the owl two days later with the test results from his most recent Transfiguration assessment.

Cedric had received his first 'Outstanding' mark. However, it would not be his last.

He didn't return home for the Christmas holidays that year, or the year next; instead opting to stay behind and study more. Ever since then, Cedric Diggory had become a prize in the eyes of his professors as well as his peers.

Then Harry Potter came to Hogwarts.

If Cedric were honest with himself, he would have admitted that he was slightly jealous of the attention that Harry was receiving. Worse yet, Harry and his trio of Gryffindors were having adventures, staying out past curfew, and basically getting away with breaking hundreds of centuries-old rules.

It was no great shock that Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire; that he would try to steal Cedric's thunder and glory when others could not. He relished the torture that the other students inflicted upon Harry.

'Potter Stinks!' indeed.

It was no great shock; either, that Harry would have been told what the first task was. Although the students preferred honest Cedric to treacherous Harry, many of the adults – including Headmaster Dumbledore – made their preferences carelessly obvious.

No, what did shock Cedric was that Harry approached him, of his own volition, and told him what to expect. Granted, it was two days before the first task when he did so – not time enough to prepare, mind you – and there was no telling how long Harry, himself, knew of the dragons. Still, Harry told him.

Moreover, Harry paid for his honesty by being caught by that maniac Moody.

After transfiguring Draco Malfoy into a ferret, there was no telling what the ex-Auror would do to poor Harry for cheating.Cedric shuddered at the thought of all the horrendous things that came to mind.

Had he been wrong about Harry?

"_He's so stuck on himself!"_

"_Half-blood, pint-sized celebutante favourite of Dumbledore! Gets away with everything!"_

"_He put his name in that goblet, the attention-seeking git!"_

Were the actions of Sunday afternoon that of an attention seeking celebutante?

Furthermore, why were Cedric's thoughts so focused on the boy?

Was Harry Potter the reason why he could no longer focus in his classes?

Was Harry Potter the reason why he had degenerated back to the scholastic mess he was his first year?

Cedric leaned on the windowsill of his solitary room, watching as his breath frosted the glass. And that was when he saw him.

Harry was walking towards the Great Lake, in quite a huff. He was upset, that much Cedric could see.

Suddenly, and without preamble, Cedric felt he needed to make sure Harry was okay. If he had been disciplined for his Sunday afternoon revelations, Cedric would have to try to make things right; or, at the very least, square them off, level pegged.

He suddenly felt very happy at the thought of making things right.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mind if I join you?"

Harry sat staring at the Great Lake with his back against the wall of rocks and boulders that managed to keep him from prying eyesHugging his knees tightly against his chest, he watched the calm waters, which stirred only occasionally, rippling across the reflection of the sunset. He recognized the voice.

"First task is tomorrow, Cedric. Probably not a good time to be seen fraternizing with the enemy."

"I don't think you're the enemy, Harry."

"Don't you?" Harry asked, with slight venom in his tone and daggers in his eyes. Cedric recoiled somewhat at the accusation before Harry's defiant expression faltered, contorting into a defeated look Cedric hoped wouldn't become commonplace

"No, Harry. I don't," Cedric affirmed as he stepped back, shifting on his heel as if to head back to the castle. "I can leave if you--"

Harry jerked back to face him, "No!"

Cedric smiled as he watched pink pepper Harry's cheeks.

"I mean... you don't have to leave on my account." Harry ducked his head, occasionally flicking his eyes to Cedric's.

"I saw you bustling down here in quite the huff," Cedric said, walking closer. He slid down the boulder, mirroring Harry's position. "Is everything okay?"

"... I don't 'huff'..." Harry said with a pout. Despite its certitude, the words were little more than a whisper.

"Oh, don't be that way, Harry," Cedric jibed with smile, bumping into Harry's shoulder with his own. Harry smiled, in spite of his foul mood. Soon, that slight smile gave way to a surlier glower.

"Ron's being a prat, is all."

"Isn't he like... your best mate?" Cedric asked, still looking at Harry attentively. Harry simply nodded before looking down at some spot between his legs.

The sun began to duck below the horizon – its rays dancing along the water's surface. It felt like a hug, Cedric thought, a warm mother's embrace on a spring evening. From a distance, birds of myriad sorts dipped in and out of his line-of-sight. It made it all so very picturesque. Cedric had the distinct feeling that he would remember this sunset for the rest of his days.

He almost didn't realize that he was speaking when he said, "Geez, I don't think I've ever seen you two apart in the three years you've been here, yeah?"

"He thinks I put my name in the Goblet."

"Oh."

Harry turned to look at Cedric, his expression severe and inculpatory, "As do the lot of you."

Cedric did not meet Harry's gaze. He closed his eyes when a breeze stirred around them and breathed deeply, smelling the scent of trees and hills the wind carried with it. Without opening his eyes, Cedric admitted, "I don't think you put your name in that Goblet."

Cedric could feel Harry still watching him. He tried not to move, twitch, or even breathe for fear that it would reaffirm Harry's suspicions. They sat frozen for what seemed an eternity before Harry went back watching the sunset.

"Thanks," he said. His tone was much softer.

"Cheers," Cedric replied.

The silence was deafening – at least, for Cedric. He felt that he should be saying something – doing something. Not simply sitting, backs to a rock, watching the inevitable happen as it has for an aeon.

But he said nothing.

Harry seemed to relax in the silence.

"You'll be leaving Hogwarts soon, yeah?"

Cedric took a deep breath before nodding.

"Are... are you scared?"

"Terrified, actually. It'll be difficult leaving," he admitted.

"Especially when you know you're not coming back," Harry finished, looking at Cedric.

"Yeah. Never quite realized that until just now."

"Sorry to bring it up," Harry said.

Cedric exhaled heavily as he spoke, "No worries. As they say – 'all good things must come to an end'."

"What do you plan to do after graduation?"

Pulling his knees to his chest and draping his arms atop them, he seemed to mull over the question.

"I don't really know," he confessed. "My dad would probably want me to work at the Ministry with him."

"As an Auror?" Harry asked, perking up slightly at the thought.

Cedric grimaced, "Oh, no fear. Mother would not have that. Far too dangerous, you see. No, I'd really like to teach. Maybe even here at Hogwarts."

"Really? I bet you'd be a brilliant professor!"

Realizing that he was far too enthusiastic, sounding more like a lovesick schoolboy than a Tri-Wizard Champion of Hogwarts, Harry quickly returned his attention to the Lake. He hoped he was not blushing or, at the very least, hoped that Cedric did not see.

"You think? Well, regardless, it's something my parents would be proud of."

"And... that's important to you, then? Your parents' approval, I mean?"

"Isn't it important to you, too?" Cedric asked, turning slightly to face Harry. Realizing the mistake, he grimaced when Harry turned his gaze back to the Lake, his lips tightening faintly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry. I didn't mean--!"

"No, it's alright," he interrupted. Harry smiled at Cedric, though it was strained, weak in its enthusiasm and lacking commitment. Cedric wore a pained look on his face and shifted uncomfortably. Harry took solace in knowing that his apology was genuine.

Seconds passed into minutes. The silence between them was comfortable, yet slightly nerve wrecking. Harry felt like he should be saying something – anything. Nevertheless, they watched the beautiful sight before them and closed their eyes when a breeze whipped between them. Often, they would turn to each other and share a smile. If they were smiling for the same reasons, they did not know, nor did it matter.

"Well, I better be off," Cedric said with a start, standing abruptly.

"Good luck tomorrow, Harry," Cedric said sincerely as he held out his hand. Harry stared at it for a moment before smiling and taking it in his own. Cedric pulled Harry to his feet, using far more vigour than was necessary. Harry jerked up and stumbled into Cedric, resting his hands on his chest to gain leverage. He froze as Cedric's arms wrapped around his waist.

"Steady there, mate!" Cedric laughed, "Sorry. Don't know my own..."

Harry was transfixed, frozen in Cedric's arms. He could feel Cedric's heartbeat quicken under his fingertips, but he could not – he dared not – look him in the eyes.

"...strength..."

Harry was trembling, this much Cedric could feel. Instinctively, yet gently, Cedric tightened his hold, bringing Harry even closer to him. Were they any closer, Harry would be inside him. Maybe that was what Cedric wanted? Harry's breathing sped up.

"You're awfully light," Cedric whispered, bathing Harry in his breath.

"Sorry."

Cedric laughed, not unkindly.

"It's not your fault, Harry. Stop apologising."

"Sorry," Harry whispered again, more faint and shaky than before.

Cedric wondered what could have happened in Harry's life to make him so fragile. He had strength, this much Cedric knew.

"Harry..."

Had he not been the one to defeat You-Know-Who as a baby? Then again in his first year?

"_Harry_..."

Was he not the boy who, at the mere age of twelve, defeated a basilisk while withstanding the jeers and suspicious eyes of those who believed he was the Heir of Slytherin?

But now, with each call of his name, Cedric watched as Harry Potter dropped his head lower as if he were too embarrassed – or ashamed – to look up. Cedric gently forced Harry's head to tilt up until they were eye-to-eye. Cedric swallowed hard as he looked deep in the green eyes that stared back at him.

His voiced cracked when he said, little more than breath, "Your eyes are beautiful."

"Th-they say I... have m'mum's eyes."

"Then _she_ must have been very beautiful," Cedric whispered, leaning closer.

"I..."

The words caught in Harry's throat as he nervously dug his fingers into Cedric's shirt.

"Harry...?"

"Yes...?"

Cedric brushed tussles of hair from Harry's eyes, cupping his cheek and caressing an eyebrow with his thumb.

"You're trembling."

"I know."

"Are you cold?"

"N-no... I'm... quite warm, actually," Harry giggled, blushing harder than ever before.

Cedric pulled him closer.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

"... No ..."

Closer, still.

"Would you mind terribly if I kissed you, now?"

"You... wh-why do you want to kiss me?"

"I feel like if I don't do it now, I'll never get another chance. But... if you don't want me to--?" Cedric said as he loosened his hold and began to pull away.

Harry felt a slight panic rise deep in his stomach. He clutched Cedric's shirt tighter, halting his retreat.

"Don't go," he beckoned. "It's just that..."

"Don't be afraid," Cedric assured him, leaning in closer.

"I'm _not_ afraid!" Harry exclaimed, stiffly, feeling the sudden urge to defend himself. "I've just... That is to say, I've never... I mean, I don't think I'll be very good at it, yeah?"

Nevertheless, the quiver in his voice betrayed him. Harry _was_ afraid. Afraid that this was all some horrible joke, or that Cedric would laugh at him or, worse yet, realize that he wasn't worth the bother. They were so close now that Harry could feel the warmth of Cedric's breath dance across his face. Even in this awkward moment, he felt more comfortable – more alive – than he had in years, possibly in all his life.

"Don't worry, Harry... it's easy ... like riding a broom."

Harry closed his eyes, tilted his head and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Certainly, _this_ was not what kissing felt like?

He opened his eyes to see Cedric beaming at him.

"Wha- what's wrong?"

Cedric brayed with laughter. It was a raucous laugh, but one without spite or malice.

"What on earth were you doing?"

Harry looked at Cedric with a baffled expression on his face.

"You looked like a fish trying to breathe air," Cedric giggled, releasing his hold on Harry. "Sit."

Cedric sat on the ground, legs straight out and spread with enough room for Harry to fit comfortably between them. Once Harry sat, he crossed his legs, allowing Cedric to scoot closer and drape his over Harry's thighs.

He cupped Harry's face gently with both hands.

"Ok," he said, smiling. "Don't worry about opening your mouth until you feel my lips touch yours, ok?"

Harry nodded.

Cedric moved his hands to Harry's shoulders, gripping them firmly as they leaned into each other.

"Ok, now close your eyes."

With eyes closed, Harry waited, again. That was when he felt it: the soft, velvet touch of Cedric's lips against his, sending waves of fire down his spine. Then, he felt Cedric's lips part faintly as he kissed his upper lip, then lower. Harry felt his trousers tighten at the crotch and hoped that Cedric didn't notice.

"Open your mouth a little," Cedric said into the kiss, each breath warm and moist against his lips. He obeyed and marvelled at how their mouths fit together like pieces from a puzzle. Cedric tasted of cinnamon and milk, like morning cereal, and his texture was silky soft.

Harry felt hands begin to rub his ears and play with his hair. He reached out and placed his hands on Cedric's waist, unsure of what to do with them, yet not wanting the moment to end. Moreover, when he felt a tongue dart past his lips and into his mouth, caressing his teeth, Harry could not help but whimper. He was completely lost and soundly defeated. For once, however, he did not mind.

When Cedric pulled back, he took one last nibble on Harry's bottom lip.

"Thank you," Cedric whispered with a smile.

Harry looked surprised, "For what?"

"For letting me kiss you," he answered. "For letting me be the _first_ to kiss you."

Almost too abruptly, Cedric hopped to his feet. "Well," he said, brushing gravel and dirt from the back of his trousers. He looked down at Harry with a rapt expression on his face, "I better be off."

Despite the darkening skies, Harry could see Cedric's eyes twinkling. "But... do you have to go, now?" Harry quickly looked away, embarrassed.

"Yes, I better."

The silence was unbearable. Harry felt like he would scream or cry or do something equally childish if something didn't happen soon.

"Will you meet me in the Astronomy Tower? After the first task?"

Harry jerked his eyes to meet Cedric's. "Yes," he said, nervously. "But... what if I forget how to...?"

Cedric could not help but smile at Harry's bashful innocence.

"No worries, Harry," Cedric affirmed, gently, "It's like riding a broom."

Cedric's smile widened. With a quick, singular, reaffirming nod, he turned and made his way back to Hogwarts, climbing over rocks until he was out of view.

A moment later, Harry was alone. He lifted his hand and brushed his lips. His eyes closed as he tried to remember the taste of the kiss. For a brief moment – the briefest of moments – there were no dragons or dark lords, no plot to ruin him or saboteurs trying to spoil his name.There were only piercing grey eyes, dark and stormy as an impending rainstorm, and the shadow of a kiss...

... their first kiss.


End file.
